


Second Chances

by Brackets_002, constellraetion



Series: Children of Wyrm [4]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25893964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brackets_002/pseuds/Brackets_002, https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellraetion/pseuds/constellraetion
Summary: In a world where the Pale King never committed the atrocities he did in canon-Ghost can't really comprehend this place, or why they're here.The Void is laughing at them both.
Relationships: The Pale King & All 50 Of His Kids, The Pale King (Hollow Knight) & Ghost (Hollow Knight), The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight)
Series: Children of Wyrm [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/887334
Comments: 28
Kudos: 204





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO. It is what it says on the tin. This is the Children of Wyrm AU, but now Ghost is here too!
> 
> I think we came up with this idea relatively soon after the CoW AU was first established but even though we were developing it at the same time none of it was ever posted on here because it contains endgame spoilers for what happens at the "end" of the CoW's main plot. 
> 
> However, the stuff we did make was Pretty Cool and it's been a long time and even though I'm starting to work on stuff for these stories again, idk why I should throw out all our old hard work so, uh, here it go!

Void denies Time--Spacetime too, though none knew that. Within the sealed Abyss and the Void centuries can pass by like a scant handful of years. The worlds above rose and fell and rose again, as below the Void swirled and seethed, black as the darkest cave and alive. The first bug had crawled out of its depths, and in the end the last bug would sink beneath its surface. It was the same Void.

It was the same Void between worlds, too.

And now it seeped up through the stone cracks at the bottom of the Abyss, bubbling towards the lowest of the platforms that dotted the walls up to the entrance. No pale masks littered the bottom of this pit; instead, the Void could swirl freely, filling up meters of space until it was just below the stone step. Gradually within it, shapes began to form together. It called together bits and pieces of mask from other Abysses from other worlds, gradually forming the shape of a round, white mask with two horns that curved into dual-pronged points. It floated to the surface of the Void, finally drifting face-up just beneath the lowest platform. Then it was joined by a dark blue cloak, and an arm as dark as the Void that created it suddenly reached out of the waters and grabbed onto the lowest ledge.

The Void was alive. It was a wellspring of creation or destruction, filled to the brim with the creations of other worlds and the lives thrown away into it. All Shades had returned to the Void, and eventually, they had all decided that their Lord deserved more than they had received.

A home.

A family.

A genuine, caring father.

More than the life of violence and fear and the rage born of abuse that had raised them like a mother. More than the brief encounters with love that they had glimpsed before losing them to the world they had died to save. And  _ certainly _ more than the emptiness of the Void they had merged with, the infinite nothingness of death and regret that their self-sacrifice had given them. In the end, the Ghost of Hallownest had been claimed by the sins of their father and given their life to rectify his failure. This would not stand. Ghost, now the Lord of Shades, had more than earned a new beginning in the eyes of the beings who called them Lord.

Now the Lord, once again merely a vessel called Ghost, crawled out of the black substance of the Void onto a stone ledge just above it. They were small, with a white mask resembling porcelain and a dark blue cloak that resembled elytra. They lay on the stone, exhausted, and felt the weight of their nail on their back. Slowly they pushed themselves to their feet and felt their wings under the cloak shift, as though assuring Ghost that they were still there. The King’s Brand on their shell, too, still remained, and Ghost looked high up at the door it had once opened. Or that they believed it had.

What had happened? One moment, they had been chasing the Radiance, with the Void and all their siblings rising up behind them. The next, they were--they were here. In the place where they had been born, where thousands of their siblings had died, where they had forced themselves to return to three different times despite never wanting to set eyes on the lifeless masks littering the bottom again. Ghost pulled out their mantis claw and began to climb their way up to the exit, baffled. They...had died, hadn’t they? They could recall the pain of their mask splitting. How, then, had they found themselves crawling their way out of the one place they least desired to see again? They couldn’t say, but now they were preoccupied with leaving again as soon as they could.

This was where they were born, where they had been cast away, where they and thousands more had been abandoned by their father in his scramble to find a sacrifice. And now it was where they strode out of in a hurry, pulling their cloak tight around them, wishing for all the world that the brand on their chest could close the door as well as open it. A tension was in their hands, an air of palpable anger exuded by their gait and the way they held their shoulders, and as their path crossed a shadow creeper’s they drew the glistening white nail and slashed at it with a familiar strike, cutting it almost in half with one swing.

Ghost was born into conflict. Ghost had known violence all their life. And whyever they had found themselves in the Abyss, they didn't predict that pattern was due to change.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PK Reminisces and encounters one of his kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one!

He hadn’t visited the shrine in some time, and why should he? It was an unfortunate reminder that he disliked to see often, but every now and then, the Wyrm needed to be humbled- to refresh his memories of the reason why his kingdom was still standing. The intricately carved statue of the Old Light- really, he shouldn't even be thinking of her as such  _ -The Radiance, _ hanging above him left a bitter taste in his mouth that he could go without, but at the bottom of the monument, covering the base, were the engraved forms of his many children.

Even now, he could still pick out the forms of Mikró and Ion placed just beneath his cloak, the very sight of them already making him wish he was back inside the walls of his castle, surrounded by them and the rest of his offspring. With a huff, the King turned away from the monument and unfurled his wings in preparation to leave the shrine room when a familiar looking shadow dropped down in front of him. Their head came up slowly and the Wyrm couldn’t help but hesitate when he recognized the two-pronged horns of his youngest child.

“Mikró? What are you doing here, little one?” he said, his voice audible just above the wind as he slowly approached them. “Did you follow me all the way here from the castle? I truly must ask the guards to keep a better eye on-” His words were cut short with a gasp as he stepped back just enough to avoid having his face split in two by their nail.

Stunned, he jumped away from them, his wings stirring up the room along with the now howling breeze as his racing thoughts all attempted to catch up with him at once. Where had they gotten a weapon, and for what purpose? Why were they brandishing it against him? When he looked up, Mikró- no, this was behavior unlike he’d ever seen come from the gentlest of his offspring -the  _ Vessel _ seemed surprised at its own actions, but the next second, it was charging him, their weapon poised to strike.

It had been some time since the King had needed to draw his own nail, but in only a moment he'd pulled out his weapon and parried their attack. Then the next, and the next, until finally he was able to circle around them enough to the point where escape was possible. However, glancing back to see whether or not he was clear to flee was his mistake, as their nail- aggressively and forcefully thrown -sliced through the air beside his face before embedding itself in the wall behind him. Without wasting any more time, the Wyrm re-sheathed his nail and flew out of the cavern.

He didn’t stop beating his wings until he was past the gates, and a hasty order cried out to the guards as he landed provided him with the sight of the gates closing on both sides of the castle grounds. his retainers lingered in the archway of the entrance and tittered anxiously at his approach.

Ignoring the hushed cries of ‘ _ Sire! _ ’ and ‘ _ Majesty! _ ’, he hurried to his study. Along the way, he caught the attention of one of his children and sent them off with the task of locating their youngest sibling. With his summons pending delivery, he had nothing else to do except wait. Upon entering his workshop, the Wyrm was surprised to see his wife reclining on one of the benches, a stray wingmould in her arms as she gazed absently at the wall.

“Oh! You’ve returned much later than I expected- and much more haggard looking too.” she murmured as her husband approached. He watched her set aside the flying sentry, the rhythmic buzzing of its wings proving soothing as he slowly made his way over to his Queen before resting his head in her lap, sighing as she draped an arm over his shoulders. “I’ve no doubt you’ve just experienced something most harrowing, my dear. Do tell me what occurred.” The King debated waiting for Mikró to appear before deciding against it.

Glancing up into his wife’s eyes, he felt a weight settle on top of his heart as he recalled the cold, furious gaze of the Vessel he’d encountered at the other edge of the basin.

“My beloved, I do believe I have encountered an impostor trying to take the place of our youngest one,” he started. “They wielded a most immaculate nail, and their eyes burned so deeply that even I faltered in my motions just long enough for them to graze me.” His sigh was cut off by the feeling of his wife’s hands skimming his wings.

“Mhmm... it appears they’ve done more than just graze you, dearest.” Her words prompted him to observe his own state in the mirror, the smooth glass displaying his reflection as a tear- one that likely started off small due to the Vessel’s weapon -ran through the length of his wing, nearly bisecting it. In his haste to return home, he must not have noticed its worsening condition. Along with that injury was the revelation that he hadn’t been glanced by their weapon, but instead it had struck him quite neatly, causing matching gashes in both his arm and along the side of his face.

Unfortunately for him, the relatively unsettling appearance he possessed was also seen by the very one he’d called to his quarters just before a bright flash of Soul filled up the missing pieces of his shell and wing before dissipating into flecks of light. Once he turned to face his wife once more, he noticed Mikró in the doorway, their head tilted up with both confusion and worry as they reached out for him. The Wyrm felt no hesitance in holding his arms out for them, their little feet making soft noises against the polished floor before they buried their face into his chest, their arms only reaching halfway around his neck as they clutched his cloak tightly in their hands.

“There now- no need to fret over me. I’ve recovered from worse.” The brief image of a giant shell discarded at the edge of the kingdom appeared in his mind before he banished the memory away. “See here, I’m fine, child. I did not call you here to worry over my well being.” Mikró’s head tilted skeptically before they nodded once, stepping back to give him some space. “Now, I only need a simple answer from you, dear thing. Have you left the castle today?” The Wyrm couldn’t help the sheer relief he felt when they shook their head no.

“Ah, I’m glad. Though that might make my next request quite difficult to hear, as I feel like I must request that you stay within its walls for some time.” As he expected, Mikró began to stamp their feet restlessly where they stood. Leaning down, he brought them back into an embrace, lifting them up and holding them against his chest as he attempted to sooth them. “All I ask is that you not leave for a few days. I’ll even send for Monomon’s assistant to keep you company if you’d like.”

Apparently, they had no complaints with this arrangement, as they ceased their movements as soon as he’d mentioned the teacher’s student. Setting them back down again, he sent them off before letting his shoulders fall with a sigh.

“Are you sure it wasn’t them? You do know how the children love to surprise you.” At his wife’s words, the memory of the impostor’s vehement glare returned to the forefront of his mind.

“No, no it can’t have been. I’ve never seen such fury in Mikró’s eyes, and they aren’t one to lie. Whatever that being was, Vessel or bug, it is dangerous, and I won’t risk something happening because I became too lenient with my oversight.” Turning to glance out the window, the Wyrm felt a shiver race up his back as he saw a pair of empty black holes stare back in the distance. The second he blinked, they were gone, but the feeling of being watched persisted. “Please excuse me, I must assemble the guards-”

With a hasty farewell to his beloved, the Wyrm made his way down the halls in search of his Kingsmoulds.

He didn’t know what the strange vessel wanted, but he would die first before it came close to any of his own.


End file.
